Second chance alaska, p.1
Second Chance Alaska, page 1
Praise for the novels of
USA TODAY bestselling author
Jennifer Snow
“Fun, heartfelt and far too good to miss.”
—Bookish Jottings on Sweet Home Alaska
“Prepare to have your heartstrings tugged! Pure Christmas delight.”
—New York Times bestselling author Lori Wilde on An Alaskan Christmas
“Heartwarming, romantic, and utterly enjoyable.”
—New York Times bestselling author Melissa Foster on An Alaskan Christmas
“Set in the wilds of Alaska, the beauty of winter and the cold shine through.”
—Fresh Fiction on An Alaskan Christmas
“Jennifer Snow’s Alaska setting and search-and-rescue element are interesting twists, and the romance is smart and sexy… An exciting contemporary series debut with a wildly unique Alaskan setting.”
—Kirkus Reviews on An Alaskan Christmas
“This first title in the Wild River series is passionate, sensual, and very sexy. The freezing, winter-cold portrayal of the Alaskan ski slopes is not the only thing sending chills through one’s body.”
—New York Journal of Books on An Alaskan Christmas
“Alaska Reunion has a little bit of everything—drama, humor, friendship, and love. It’s a well-written story that will draw readers in.”
—Harlequin Junkie
Jennifer Snow
Second Chance Alaska
Table of Contents
Second Chance Alaska
Love in the Alaskan Wilds
“In order for the light to shine so brightly,
the darkness must also be present.”
—Francis Bacon
Second Chance Alaska
Contents
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
PROLOGUE
Dear readers,
Never in my wildest imagination could I have envisioned that you would have embraced the love story about a sea serpent queen and a lonely fisherman the way you have. Writing this story was something I’d wanted to do for a long time, but lack of courage to follow my heart has always been my greatest fault. As a resident of Port Serenity, Alaska, I finally felt it was my duty to give this story within me life-space to breathe. I wanted to give Sealena a voice in a way she’s never really had, exploring her wants, desires, struggles.
This trilogy is a love story that surpasses all time and space. It speaks to the agony of a love that shouldn’t be, it offers hope and inspiration in our darkest moments, and it shows that love is all that truly matters.
Thank you for the fan mail. I’ve read each and every last letter, email and social media comment, and I cherish the support and encouragement. Your passion for these stories is my motivation and inspiration to continue writing Sealena’s love adventure.
I’ve kept my identity a secret for a lot of reasons, and I’ll just say that, for now, that path serves me and my life. I’m not hiding behind a pen name out of fear or guilt or embarrassment, but out of respect for the true star—Sealena, the Serpent Queen who courageously guards the waters and shoreline along this rugged, majestic Alaskan coast. She is the protagonist of her own story and I want to let her shine.
Know I appreciate every one of you, dear readers, and this community of Sealena fans continues to grow every day because of your praise and support of this series.
Keep believing that dreams do come true and lasting love is always just a serendipitous moment away.
XO
Y.C. Salwert
CHAPTER ONE
SHE WOULDN’T BE standing there, practically naked, in front of half of Port Serenity if it hadn’t been for that damn tail.
But Carly Walters’s worst nightmare was indeed happening. Standing center stage in the Serpent Queen pub, under the bright, blinding spotlight, she stared out into the shocked, horrified, slightly amused expressions of people she’d known her entire life.
Wearing only her Little Miss Sunshine days of the week underwear and a shiny gold sports bra.
Her Sealena costume had been ripped from her body when the serpent-like tail had snagged on a raised wooden floorboard as she’d proudly walked across the stage when her contestant number was announced. Lucky number thirteen, her ass.
How she’d even allowed herself to be talked into participating in this silly yearly tradition, she’d never know. Tequila shots had definitely been involved. And a bet—at least she had fifty dollars coming to her. Small consolation for the mortification she was currently enduring.
The town’s annual Sealena costume contest was held every year at the end of June in a closed event at the local pub named in the Serpent Queen’s honor, open to locals only. A catered, open-bar kickoff party to the official start of tourist season—a way to pre-thank the community for the hard work they were about to endure for the next two months when the small Alaskan coastal town saw a huge influx of tourists. The town’s generations-old claim on the mythical sea creature made it a hot-spot destination for those in search of the elusive, the unknown. Families flocked to town hoping to spot Sealena for themselves and the local businesses had thrived in providing that opportunity.
Thank goodness this event was closed to the broader public, otherwise Port Serenity would be newsworthy for a different type of sighting.
Onstage, her fellow competitors sent her sympathetic looks as Carly struggled to tug the trapped fabric toward her. “Come on,” she muttered.
“Spotlight off, please,” Dex Wakefield called out to the stage technician from his position behind the bar.
Immediately, the light went out, providing more privacy, and Carly sent her cousin’s fiancé a grateful look as she continued to try to pull the tail free. From far back in the crowd, she could see her friend Rachel approach the stage. If she could actually call Rachel a friend. She was pretty sure Rachel had been the one to suggest Carly participate in the event. At thirty-four years old, she really had to stop giving in to peer pressure.
She motioned for Rachel to hurry up, but her friend was held up by the thick crowd gathered around the stage.
“Hey, hold still. I got you,” a male voice said from the front row.
Carly turned toward the man as he climbed onto the stage, one hand shielding his eyes to give her privacy. She appreciated the gesture, but it also blocked her view of his face. She squinted in the dim neon lighting, taking in the designer jeans, expensive leather shoes and light gray Henley that hugged the man’s muscular frame—a muscular frame she didn’t recognize and one she surely would have noticed if she’d seen it around town before.
The event was locals only. New man in town?
If so, he would be the first one in forever. Things didn’t change much in Port Serenity. People didn’t change much. It was both a blessing and a curse at times. Especially times such as this, when anonymity might make this mishap less mortifying, but the familiarity of the crowd made it a safe zone.
Next to her, the stranger bent and quickly detached the ten-foot tail from the splintered plank of wood and offered the fabric to her without looking.
Grateful, she wrapped the costume around her exposed body. “Thank you...?”
“Is it safe to look?”
“Yes,” she said, glancing down to make sure. Not that it mattered. It was too late now anyway.
He lowered his hand from his face and extended it toward her. “Sebastian Grant. I’m the new head of tourism development in town.”
Carly’s mouth gaped. Of course he was. She’d heard the rumor that Mr. O’Doyle was retiring from the position he’d held for over thirty-five years and she knew the mayor’s office was hoping to hire a replacement by the start of tourist season, but she hadn’t known they’d found someone.
Or that he’d be a young, handsome guy with a savior complex.
“Nice to meet you,” she said, feeling her cheeks flush with heat even more than they had seconds ago. “I’m Carly Walters—I run the Sealena Bookstore and Museum on Main Street.”
“Ah! Yes!” The man’s eyes lit up. “Great to meet you. Mayor Crinly said you’d be my greatest resource on all things Sealena.”
As somewhat of a local expert on the Serpent Queen, Carly was heavily involved in the tourism department. She sat on the local planning committee and helped to arrange a lot of the town’s events, such as the Sealena Festival happening the following month. Mayor Crinly had already given her a heads-up that she’d be spending a lot of time with whomever took over the position.
“I, uh, guess I didn’t make a great first impression.”
Sebastian shook his head as he helped her descend the stairs from the stage. “On the contrary,” he said. “You’ve impressed the hell out o
Carly laughed. “I was winning too, until that stupid plank of wood.” Her costume had been the best by far. Once she’d agreed to participate, she’d gone all in on the design and, being a Sealena expert, made hers as authentic as possible with a likeness to the Serpent Queen that none of the other competitors could have hoped to duplicate, with a multiple snake headdress that had taken weeks to sew together. Her body-painted scales of various greens, tans and gold had taken three hours to apply with an airbrush and stencil. She’d even temporarily dyed her long dark hair an ocean shade of green for a more authentic look than the wigs worn by her fellow competitors. The gold tank top she wore matched the long serpent appendage she’d fabricated from a mermaid tail she’d bought the year before when she’d signed up for a mermaid swim class, where she’d quickly discovered that her abs were just not up to the challenge.
She’d had this win, hands down.
Now it appeared the trophy and bragging rights belonged to Amelia Fisher, the first-grade teacher, who was graciously accepting her award from the judging table.
“There’s always next year,” Sebastian said.
Carly laughed and shook her head as she turned toward the back room, where she had a change of clothing waiting. “Not for me. This was a once-in-a-lifetime event.”
“Glad I was here to witness it, then,” he called after her teasingly. His gaze drifted over her with obvious interest and she felt her cheeks warm again.
When was the last time a man had looked at her that way?
Longer than forever. A serial monogamist, she didn’t do casual and didn’t like to waste her time on relationships that weren’t going to lead anywhere.
“I look forward to talking to you about the Sealena Festival,” she said, pushing open the back staff-room door.
“Likewise,” he said. Then he jogged toward her and lowered his voice to a conspirator’s level. “And, uh, Carly?”
Her pulse picked up slightly. “Yeah?”
“It’s Saturday.”
She frowned. “Huh?”
“Your underwear said Friday,” he said with a grin and a wave as he headed back to rejoin the group seated at the mayor’s table.
Carly watched after him, an odd feeling washing over her. Had they been flirting just now? It had felt like flirting, but it had been so long since she’d flirted or been flirted with that she couldn’t be sure. And did she want to flirt with a man who was going to be a colleague of sorts?
Rachel finally caught up to her in the hallway, dressed in a tight, lime-green body-con dress and matching six-inch heels. It was no mystery why her friend had taken so long to get through the crowd. Carly would never be able to walk in such tight fabric with stilettos. Rachel was from Seattle and she still dressed like a city girl despite having lived in the casual small town for almost a year. “Holy hotness. Who was your sexy rescuer?” she asked, her gaze on Sebastian.
“Sebastian Grant, the new head of tourism development,” Carly said, pushing through the staff-room door of the pub.
Rachel followed her inside. “New head of tourism? So, essentially your new shadow for the summer?” she said with unconcealed pleasure at the turn of events. Her blue eyes sparkled and Carly could already see the matchmaking wheels turning in her friend’s mind. Recently engaged, Rachel had love on the brain 24/7 and she was constantly trying to convince Carly to sign up for relationship apps, speed dating events... She’d even suggested a reality dating show, which, luckily, Carly had not succumbed to the pressure of.
Yet.
“Who just saw me in my underwear,” she said as she carefully removed the snake headdress without yanking out pieces of her stiff, dyed hair. She was going to need a really great hair conditioning treatment after this.
“Everyone just saw you in your underwear,” Rachel said, helping to unzip the tail from around Carly’s waist.
She breathed in deep as the tight fabric was removed. “Thanks for the reminder.”
Rachel laughed. “It wasn’t that bad, and having a gorgeous man come to your rescue couldn’t have been that horrible either,” she said with a raised, suggestive eyebrow as she looked at her through the mirror. Obviously, her friend wasn’t ready to drop that conversation.
Carly sighed. Sebastian was a gorgeous man and he had rescued her in her moment of need and they would be spending a lot of time together that summer. All of that was true.
Unfortunately, it was also a truth universally acknowledged that Carly’s heart wasn’t up for grabs. It was—and would probably always remain—in the clutches of the one man in town who hadn’t been there to see her in her underwear that evening.
And probably never would.
* * *
“PORT SERENITY’S LIGHTHOUSE has stood tall on the cliffside overlooking the North Pacific for over a hundred years. Timeworn and fragile, the structure serves as more of a beacon of the past, shining light on maritime history, than—”
A loud emergency response alarm that echoed throughout the lighthouse tower the next day interrupted Rachel’s spiel, giving Oliver Klein a welcome respite. “Hold that thought,” he told her as he and his daughter Tess sprang into action inside the historic building.
Rachel sighed loudly behind him, but Oliver didn’t have time to worry about putting off the local historian blogger who had been harassing him for an exclusive interview since the day she’d moved to town. This “emergency” couldn’t have come at a better time.
“6.7 earthquake. Go, go, go!” he told Tess.
“I’ve got the tower,” she said. Dressed in her lighthouse tour guide T-shirt and shorts, his ten-year-old daughter sprinted up the winding, concrete tower stairs, her little legs moving at the pace of lightning.
Oliver hurried inside the showroom where the historic artifacts were on display to check the main floor washrooms. He knocked once on each door, then went in, checking all stalls.
All clear.
He opened the records-room door and scanned, but there was no one inside. The seating area with the library boasting books about Port Serenity’s heritage was empty as well.
Everyone must be in the tower.
As Oliver reentered the main room, a group of people descended the tower stairs carefully but quickly as the alarm continued to wail, echoing for miles across the marina.
Oliver frowned as he surveyed the group. There should be eight people. A quick head count revealed only seven. His daughter appeared at the rear. “Injured male. Fifties. About two hundred pounds,” Tess reported, pointing up the stairs.
Shit.
Oliver moved past her on the stairwell and his thighs burned as he made the fast climb toward the injured man at the top of the tower. Why the hell were there so many stairs? Maybe they should reconsider letting tourists into the tower. Did they really need to see the beacon up close? Or the view of the ocean from that vantage point?
Might be a hard sell for the tourism board if they removed that aspect, and unfortunately, with the coast guard having assumed official control over the lighthouse, Oliver was more tour guide than anything else, despite being an honorary member of the Coast Guard Aids to Navigation crew, which currently maintained the functioning of the lighthouse. Upgrades in technology meant there was little maintenance on the place these days.
Ten seconds later, he reached a man in his late forties, sitting on the floor, his back to the concrete wall, a pained expression on his face as he groaned, clutching his left leg. Oliver bent next to him and assessed the injuries. “Can you walk?” he asked the man, helping him to his feet.
The man’s leg gave way and he shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
Fantastic.
Oliver sighed as he bent, braced himself for the weight and heaved the man over his shoulder. The guy was definitely heavier than two hundred pounds. Tess needed to work on her assessment skills. At thirty-five years old, Oliver liked to think he was still in good shape, but the aching of his muscles and the slight panting for breath after the sprint up the stairwell had him rethinking it.
